It Felt Like Flying
by Rosecrystals
Summary: "Flying had been real. But what I had forgotten about flying was that you could never fly forever. Eventually you had to fall. For the first time in my life falling was real. Real wasn't beautiful. Real was not perfect. Real was not happiness. And everything I didn't want to be real was real." A Speak story written in Melinda's POV. Eventual Melinda/Dave Petrakis.
1. Chapter 1

**It Felt Like Flying**

**Chapter I**

**Real**

When I was a child my parents used to take me apple picking every autumn. I loved the crisp cool air against my skin, the weight of the straw basket as it hung from my wrist. But most of all I loved it when my father held me up so I could reach the apples. When I was little I always had dreams I could fly and when he held me up under the canopy of green I felt like gravity was non-existent. Autumn was the only time that the prospect of flying wasn't trapped in a fairytale's pages. It was real. Beautiful was real. Perfect was real. Happiness was real. Everything that I wanted to be real… was real.

But real is not a fairytale. It's not a movie and you can't turn put it on pause or turn off the TV when you get tired of it. You can't control real. And real doesn't go away.

When I was fourteen me and my friends decided to go to a party the summer before high school. My first party. It was a rite of passage I caught in the movies from time to time. This forbidden, thrilling thing. And there would be cute boys there and maybe I'd even get my first taste of beer. It was such a new thing. It would mark my official ascent into adulthood.

I curled my hair and stole my mom's make-up and first the first time I felt like a young woman instead of an awkward, gangly girl. I loved the way my lashes curled away like little feathers from my green eyes and the way the lip gloss looked over my lips. I always thought I had a boy's lips, thin and unattractive. Kind of like lines kids drew on their oversized stick figure heads. You couldn't even call them lips. But the lip gloss made them look full. It felt good to feel pretty. It felt like I was up in my childhood apple tree, my legs dangling in empty air. That orchard was all I thought about as my friend's older sister drove us to the party. The cool air coming in from the rolled down windows reminded me of autumn and I could almost smell fresh baked apples. I had a feeling in my chest that tonight was going to be amazing. A defining moment in my life. And that feeling built up behind my ribs until there was too much pressure in my chest and I had to let it out somehow. I rolled the window down all the way and stuck my body out, my hands gripping the car door. I screamed and it felt like flying.

Flying was real. I…

But real was also the sound of my muffled screams against Andy Evan's hand. Real was the pressure of his body crushing mine. Real was the sharp, raw feeling between my leg's as Andy forced his way inside me. Real was the blood I could feel dripping down my inner thighs. I didn't even wipe the cum off my panties. I just ran. I ran and for the first time in my life cool air felt like knives against my skin.

Flying had been real. But what I had forgotten about flying was that you could never fly forever. Eventually you had to fall. For the first time in my life _falling_ was real. Real wasn't beautiful. Real was not perfect. Real was not happiness.

And everything I didn't want to be real was real.


	2. It Feels Like Bleeding

**A/N: Alright. Just putting some stuff out there. This fic for some reason is really difficult for me to write. Maybe because Melinda reminds me too much of myself and it's just hitting too close to home. For anyone who has favorited this story or who plans to read it, please review. I don't care how long or short. I learned my lesson writing a 73 chapter story on this site and just passing out chapters like they were free. And I think that worked against my favor. So if you want me to continue, please review. I know there are people who think you're a sell-out if you ask for reviews, but I take my writing seriously and I work hard. I deserve a 'good-job' or 'maybe you can improve on this a bit'. All I'm asking is for ONE review per chapter. And not by the same person over and over again. If that happens I'll send them the chapters by email and stop updating on the site. Please, please review.**

**And Joanjett77, thank you for doing your part! I appreciate the review. :D Onto the story…**

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_-xxx__**September 15, 2004**__xxx-_

I had never felt perfect. Who does, right?

But as I walked the halls the first week of high school even imperfect was out of the question. I barely felt human.

They squealed like angry pigs until I felt like I'd throw up my guts. My skin tingled, and my face burned. My eyes burned. They burned with the tears I refused to let fall. And my head hurt with the brain hemorrhage I knew was hiding in there somewhere. I…

Someone threw food at me yesterday. Another one shoved past me in the hallway.

I didn't mean to get them in trouble. I was scared, okay? Don't they teach you to call out for help if you're in trouble? Wasn't I in trouble?

_-xxx __**November 09, 2004**__ xxx__-_

There are moments when I feel…not safe. It sounds over-dramatic. But you should see the way they look at me sometimes. It's past mocking. Sometimes I look up and catch someone's stare. Their eyes are so hateful. It looks like they wish I would just go away. Not like away. I mean, stop existing.

Sometimes if I don't run to my mom's car after school is done quite fast enough I feel like someone will grab me. I feel like I'm going to end up in a dump somewhere, cut up in little pieces. Or maybe in the reservoir outside of town.

Sometimes I silently thank God Andy didn't kill me that night. He could have. With all the loud music at the party; nobody would hear me scream.

But then sometimes I wish he had.

I can't eat. I can't sleep. When before my life has been filled with maybe's and can's, now it's filled with can-not's.

I wanna scream. Climb some infinitely tall mountain and scream until I vomit my own blood.

I can't breathe. For hours. Shallow little breaths puff out from my lungs but I feel like I'm not getting enough air. And I'm not using some cheesy metaphor. I literally can't breathe.

I'm waiting. It's all I ever do. I'm waiting for to someone to hurt me just enough to kill me. I'm waiting until I don't wake up anymore. I'm waiting for it to all end.

Am I going to wait for forever?


	3. I Am Alive

**A/N: Hello! I got some reviews, yay! Thanks so much. Thanks JoanJett77, wenwen, and BerryEbilBunny. You guys are awesome! Hope you're all having good summers. **

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Chapter 3

Am I alive?

Just a little bit longer.

That's what the voice inside my head says looking at the January calendar on my bedroom wall. Just a couple more months and it''ll be summer and you won't have to be afraid of walking through the hallways. Where you won't have to keep your head down at all and pretend you're invisible. It feels good to feel invisible. If they can't see you, they can't hurt you, right?

They still see me. I don't eat in the lunch room. I take the long way to my classes. They still see me.

I got to class today and the first thing I saw scratched on my desk in pen was all capital letters that spelled SQUEALER. And then "pigs get sent to the slaughter."

The color rose on my cheeks furiously and when I lifted my head I heard some hyena-like laughing coming from the back of the classroom. I sank in my seat a bit. I felt someone's stare and looked over. Rachel, the girl who used to one of my best friends, was staring at me. She'd been giving me that look since the beginning of the school year. I just couldn't understand. Hadn't she punished me enough by refusing to talk to me? Hadn't they all punished me enough?

Today when I ran to my mom's car it wasn't because I was afraid. Now it was just to be able to feel my heart beat in my chest. Sometimes I felt like it wasn't there. I'd get so disconnected and numb that I'd feel my breaths slow so much and the blood drain out of my face to such an extent that I felt barely alive.

I'm alive I whispered as I ran to mom's car. I…am…alive.

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I dreamt of Andy last night. Everything was happening as it did. His body crushing me to the car seat until I could swear one of my ribs would crack. But this time after he finished and I lay shaking in silent shock he pulled a knife out of his glove compartment. My eyes widened and I started to weep. "Please. Please. I'll never tell."

He didn't kill me. That would have been the easy way out, wouldn't it? That would've been too kind of him. And over the past few months I had come to realize that I deserved no one's kindness.

Instead he smiled and cut in two swift sweeps through my skin an extended mouth for me on each side of my lips. I felt the warm wetness roll down the side of my face and into my hair and I knew I was bleeding.

I could feel my chest rise and fall quickly as I cried softly. He pulled out a construction grade staple-gun and I writhed underneath him, gasping repeatedly.

My screams tore through my throat as he started stapling the right side of my new mouth closed.

And that was when I shot up in bed with freshly fallen tears on my cheeks. I couldn't believe I could still cry.

That's why I'm sitting at my dining room table at three in the morning like a creep staring at the variations in the wood grain.

Yes. It's only a few more months to summer. But once summer ends it'll start all over again. Three more times until I graduate. Three years.

Can someone not sleep for three years?


	4. Forgotten

_**A/N: Sorry about the wait. I've been so busy recently. I promise I'll be quicker with the upcoming chapters. Thanks for the reviews. Shout out to BerryEbilBunny, wen wen, Joanjett77, and KCRedPanda98. Without further ado…**_

Chapter 4

-Forgotten-

I had forgotten what it was like to fly. It didn't even feel like I was walking anymore. I felt like I was underwater with a weight tied to my ankle and no matter how much I flailed and moved my arms and legs I kept sinking farther down.

By the end of the year I told Rachel what Andy Evans did. At first she couldn't believe it. She thought I was a pathologic liar, a psycho. But to be honest, I didn't care. I had finally spoken. People could believe me or not, but I finally had a weight lifted off my chest.

I got an A in art. I consider Mr. Freeman one of my closest friends. His class tough me a lot of things. To believe in myself again. To love myself enough to speak up for myself.

I can't get my head around the fact they're going to fire him. What kind of crap is that? He gave me his phone number and address. I'll definitely keep in touch. How can you forget the only person who treated you like a human being? He was so decent and kind.

When I showed him the janitor's closet full of my tree drawings, seeing his expression of appreciation, of pride. That was the first day I felt happy.

I had felt numb all year and for the first time I felt warm and alive.

It didn't matter when Andy attacked me in that closet and cut open my face. I had the tools to fight back. I wasn't going to let anything scare me ever again. I grabbed a container full of acid and burned his eyes with it.

People ran over in shock.

And something I thought would never happen happened. People believed _me_. They didn't hate _me_. They felt for me. That day, I finally felt free. One step closer to the person I used to be.

A year later and I was okay again. Rachel and the rest of my old friends have started to talk to me. They apologized to me for the way they treated me. They got me a card and signed it.

We plan to hang out.

But I think the truest friend I have is Dave Petrakis.

Dave is kind of nerdy, the laid back smart type. And he seems to be free from the judgment everyone has for others. He's not tied to social limitations like everyone else. He thinks what he wants to and does what he wants to and I respect him for that.

I'm sitting in my room and I hear a tapping at my window. I go over and Dave is standing in my front yard with some pebbles in his hand.

I shake my head with a smile and open it, sticking my head out.

"Dude, you are crazy." I yell down to him.

He smiles.

"So are you, Sordino!"

I laugh. "Yeah, I am. And proud!"

"Wanna come over my house for a bit? I'm ordering pizza and watching some movies with friends."

I hesitate. But then I answer. I have to learn to trust people again. Dave is not the kind of monster Andy was. "Yeah. Give me a minute."

His dark hazel eyes catch the afternoon sun. "Okay."

I had always had dreams I could fly. And now they didn't seem to be dreams anymore.


	5. Okay Again

_**A?N: Hey! Sorry for the long wait. I've been busy with work. Thanks for your nice reviews and CameraLover696, thanks for liking this story. That means a lot to me. Anyway, onto the next chapter. :D**_

Chapter 5

Okay Again

I keep telling myself that I can trust Dave. I mean, how could you not trust him? He has a quiet demeanor about him; the features of his face are soft and childlike. I can't sense any mean-spiritedness when I look at him.

But I never sensed any mean-spiritedness from Andy Evans either.

Being in a car with a boy is a scary experience, I realize. I feel that at any moment he'll pull into a side street or abandoned parking lot and push me down on the passenger's seat and…

_God, what's wrong with me?!_

He notices my distress and glances over. "You okay?"

I smile awkwardly. "Yeah. "

"You don't have to be nervous about meeting my friends. They're all real nice. Complete dorks like me." He laughs.

A genuine smile curls at my lips this time. "I like dorks."

He looks at me and his eyes look warm, like honey in the sunlight. He doesn't say anything and suddenly I know I can trust him.

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Dave was right when he told me his friends were dorks. They're all huddled around his TV playing World of Warcraft. I'm surprised to see a girl in the crowd. Her hair is red and curly and she's wearing an olive colored jacket over a simple white shirt. Her jean clad legs are slender and on her feet are covered in black combat boots. She looks completely in her element, happy with herself. She's not a preppy, make-up covered popular girl. And that makes her totally cool in my eyes.

I wish I could be that fearless. Not care what people think of me. But after this whole year, after all their mean stares that's harder said than done.

The rest of them are boys, awkward and gangly. Genetics apparently haven't been kind to them. Not that they're ugly or anything. Most of them are decent looking; they just don't have the built, athletic bodies of their peers.

'Look, he brought a girl." One of them notes in a goofy voice.

The red-head yells. "What the fuck am I?!"

He answers. "I mean you look like a girl, but in all technicality you're a guy. Let's face it, most girls would not call this a fun afternoon get together."

Dave Petrakis cuts in. 'Alright settle down guys…" he pauses and looks at the red-head. "and girl."

"This is my friend Melinda."

The red-head looks at me. "We know who she is. The whole school knows who she is."

I blush and look at my shoes ashamed. Ready to flee.

Dave notices. "Be nice you guys. She's had a rough year."

The red-head replies. "I'm not being mean,." She looks at me. "I think you're pretty cool Melinda. Not letting those popular assholes get to you. Challenging a prick jock. That takes a lot of balls."

"Thanks." It's strange to hear something nice about me.

"My name's Daisy, by the way."

"Nice to meet you Daisy."

One of the boys spoke. "Come on, rookie. You're about to be inducted into the hall of geekdom."

I laugh. Me and Dave sit down among them.

"This, my friend is the best videogame in the world and you are about to take in its epicness. Prepare yourself, mortal."

Boys, I find, are not all bad. Some of them are actually really nice. For the first time in a while I feel comfortable in my own skin. Life is not a fairytale and there aren't happy endings. But there aren't bad ending either. Happy just doesn't turn out the way we think.

And right now I am happy.


	6. A Friend

**A/N: Hey, sorry about not updating. I've been really busy recently. Thanks to spiderwoma69, JoanJett77, and MariaDeNoir for reviewing. The chapter's short, but I promise another update during the week. I won't abandon this story. I promise.**

* * *

**Chapter Six**

**A Friend**

Call me a jerk, but as I watch Dave's friends play videogames I can't help but be bored.

I was never a videogame girl. I liked life's simple pleasures. The wind on my face. A day out in the sun.

He glances over at me and I think he realizes I'm bored out of my mind.

"Not your cup of tea?"

"No, sorry. I know it's like a religious ritual for you nerdy people. It just doesn't do it for me."

He laughs. "Well, you'll be happy to know that I'm not as fanatical about it as they are."

I smile at him.

"Hey, listen. I have some stuff I wanna show you. You know, get a second opinion."

"Yeah?"

"You're gonna laugh at me. I've been learning how to play the guitar for like a year. Not that good at it, but I was hoping you could maybe tell me if I'm on the right track."

"No problem. What kind of music do you play?"

"Oh, you know. Indie rock."

I laugh.

"I know, it's cliché."

"No. No. It's just that every teenage guy and their neighbor has a rock- n- roll band."

"Which makes it cliché."

"Don't pay me any mind. I'll listen to your songs."

"Alright. My guitar's in my room."

My face blanches, the blood running out of it. I can remember Andy Evan's seemingly nice smile as he kissed me in his car. How he called me pretty.

The speaker system on Dave's TV is loud and I wonder if his friend's videogame is some sort of ploy. If the guitar in his bedroom is a trap to get in my pants.

His face darkens, a frown seeping into his features.

"Hey, you okay?"

I try my best to smile, but it comes out awkward and forced. The kind of smile when your lips curl upwards, but your eyes are empty.

"Yeah. Just have a little stomach-ache. That's all."

"Look, Melinda. I know you're scared after what happened to you. But you need to get out and experience life. You shouldn't let the past hold you back."

My voice is soft when it leaves my lips. "You don't know what it's like."

"No, I don't. But what I do know is that you're not gonna feel any better about people if you don't have the courage to go out and meet some nice ones. You can trust me."

"It's really hard not to be paranoid. I'm sorry. Don't take it personally."

He looks at me quietly, his runs a hand through his dark hair in slight frustration.

"This day is not going as I planned. I wanted you to have some fun."

I smile weakly. "I will. Let's go and listen to some of your music. I bet you probably have some DEMOs and EPs you want me to listen to."

His eyes light up. "Tons."

I don't know that I can ever trust anyone ever again. But what I do know is that some music, good or absolutely awful, will take my mind off the pathetic state my life is in at the current moment. I follow him to his room and take a calming breath.

Today, I'm going to get to know a new person. I hope he does prove me wrong about my fears. I've been waiting for someone to.


	7. It Feels Like Breathing

**A/N: So sorry for the long wait. I've been working a lot lately and when I'm tired I get serious writer's block. Anyway, hope everyone had a happy new year. Thanks Joanjett77 for reviewing.**

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

**It Feels Like Breathing**

Dave's room is a shrine to his favorite bands. The walls are plastered in band posters. _Nirvana, Pink Floyd, Metallica._

I smile as my eyes pass over all the memorabilia.

He motions for me to sit on his bed and he pulls up a chair. His own little concert for me.

Dave is hesitant for a moment and I can tell he's embarrassed. He laughs awkwardly before he starts .He strums slowly, a mellow song.

_They watch me as I walk away_

_They speak to me at the end of the day_

_Tell me, that if I choose to speak my mind_

_That this is the price I'll have to pay_

_I see now that life is just a game_

_That you have to sell yourself_

_Just so they know your name_

_But I've never followed that crowd_

_And I'll always be the same_

_They turn their backs as I walk by_

_Spend their afternoons getting high_

_I know that they think I'm strange_

_I'll never succumb to their pretty lie_

_I see now that life is just a game_

_That you have to sell yourself_

_Just so they know your name_

_But I've never followed that crowd_

_And I'll always be the same_

_No, I've never followed that crowd_

_I'll always be the same_

_I'll always be the same_

I clap and he blushes, running a hand through his hair nervously.

"Um, yeah. It's not finished yet. I think I wanna add another verse."

"No, I love it. It's great."

He looks at me and smiles like a little kid.

"Really?"

"Yeah. You're really good!"

"Not really. Thanks, though."

"Seriously. You've got some skill."

He doesn't say anything for a moment.

"Can I try?" I ask.

"Yeah, sure."

He hands me his guitar.

"Do you play?" He asks.

I laugh. "Not at all."

I strum a chord or two, but that's all I can really manage.

"No musical talent." I smile.

"Aw, that's not true. You just gotta keep at it."

"With me, not so sure."

"Don't be ridiculous. I can teach you."

"Are you sure you're up for that challenge?"

"Definitely. Your first lesson starts now."

He motions for me to stand up. I hop off the bed my fingers tap the wood body of the guitar.

He's behind me suddenly and his arms brush mine as he guides my hands over the strings.

I'm nervous, not prepared for the contact. I tense and he feels it.

"Relax, Melinda."

"I am relaxed." I lie.

'No, you're not."

"Really. I'm fine."

He sighs. "I'm really trying to get you to break out of your shell. You're not helping me."

"I'm sorry." And I genuinely am. Dave is a nice guy. And to be perfectly honest, no one's been as kind to me as he's been. Not ever.

I should feel comfortable around him. And I do. Most of the time.

But whenever he walks a little too close I feel afraid.

His voice is soft when he speaks. "I'm sorry about what Andy did to you. He's a monster and I am so sorry. But I'm not Andy. You don't have to be scared around me. I won't hurt you, I promise."

I look into his eyes. I see compassion in them. There isn't a speck or sliver of malice.

It's in this moment that I finally start to trust again.

It feels like breathing after you've been underwater. Like waking from a deep sleep.

My voice is faint, like a timid child's.

"Thank you."

* * *

It's somewhere around the hour of ten when Dave drops me off at my house.

He taught me some scales on his guitar. Maybe one day I can write songs like him.

_Yeah…right_.

I've decided that he's going to give me weekly guitar lessons.

It's an excuse to get out of my house.

It's true that my nightmare is over. But my mom and dad still act strange around me. It's like they don't know what to do. They act as if the wrong move, the wrong word will break me. I want them to know that they don't have to be that way around me. I wish I could tell them. I just don't know how.

Dave doesn't treat me like a victim. When I'm around him I forget all the things that have happened.

I don't feel like broken. I don't feel hurt. I don't feel dirty or worthless. I don't feel like any of the horrible things I've felt like over the year.

I feel normal. I feel clean.

And the most important thing.

I _feel_.

There is no emptiness. There is no numbness.

It's like breathing after you've been underwater. It's like waking from a deep sleep.

It's like being alive.


	8. This Is Home

**A/N: I don't even know what to say about the lack of updates. Except I'm sorry. I don't even know if anyone is still going to read this. But here it is. A new chapter.**

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

**This Is Home**

_I blinked and summer was over. The sweltering heat of late August faded into the bearable subtle heat of September. _

_Those two months of summer vacation had been like a deep exhale out of my lungs. There were some moments when I sat in my room with Dave Petrakis and played guitar where I felt as if the events of the last year hadn't happened. That I was a whole person, complete. There had been a hollow ache in me for so long. That hollowness had been filled. It was like it never existed in the first place._

_But the ache was locked away somewhere deep inside me. I had medicated it with a hobby and a kind companion. But I was stupid to fool myself into thinking it was gone. I knew I was wrong as I walked the hallways of my high school. I could hear the ghost echo of malicious laughter reverberate off the metal lockers. _

It is only in my mind and no one bothers me. I walk by Andy Evan's friends and I see the hate in their eyes. How I had destroyed their friend's life. I can hear their whispers as I pass them in the hallway.

"Should've seen the way she was dressed that night. The slut wanted it."

I no longer feel the shame and hurt.

I feel bitter and empty. Mostly bitter. That people could be mad at me for something I had no control over. Mad at me for something someone else was responsible for.

Dave told me once after we had a guitar lesson that I couldn't control what other people did and said. The only thing I had control over was myself. And I decided I wasn't going to give them the consent, the permission to make me feel bad about myself.

I had been a victim the night of that party. But I was a fool to let them keep making me feel like a victim.

My eyes settle on the oak door of my first class. And something happens in a place I thought it never would. In a place where I had felt humiliation and hurt.

I smile.

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There is something different now. A different emotion, a different feeling I feel as my fingers strum a lazy tune in my bedroom.

Dave watches attentively and smiles when I stop.

"See, you're not half bad."

I smile. "I guess you're a miracle worker."

"That's ridiculous. Give yourself more credit."

I look at him with a dry grin. "So what do I owe you now?"

He is stricken silent for a moment. A blush rises on his cheeks and I am surprised to see anything other than the cool collected expression he always seems to have.

"Dave?" I ask with the slightest worry.

"Sorry. I'm good."

"You sure?" I joke.

"Yeah. " He pauses, thinking. "We've spent so much time indoors. I wanna enjoy the last bit of summer before it's gone. You wanna come to the park with me?"

I place his guitar on my mattress carefully.

"Yeah. Let's go."

The whole stretch of grassy meadow is golden in the sunset. A glimmer of something flashes in my mind.

An apple tree. Strong hands holding me up.

The afternoon breeze wafts over my face and I am brought back to the world around me.

I am so focused on the natural beauty around me that I forget momentarily that someone else has accompanied me. There is the brush of a hand and I look up with slight alarm at Dave.

His face changes into Andy's for a split second and I almost pull my hand away.

But the eyes that look at me are as warm as the sun around me. His touch is soft and almost hesitant. He looks for permission and my eyes must have changed because he wraps his fingers around mine.

I am silent and still. Not with fear. But instead…surprise.

Surprise that I could feel that way for a boy ever again.

For so long the glance or presence of a guy had reminded me of a monster in a nightmare.

I look into his eyes and he looks into mine. He looks at me with a sleepy expression.

We walk aimlessly among the tall untamed grasses.

"I like you, Melinda."

I laugh it off. "I would hope so. I'd like to think I have one friend."

"No. Not like a friend. More than that."

"That's stupid. I mean, look at me. I'm so skinny and awkward looking. Like a twelve year old boy or something."

"Guys look for more than looks in a girl. We're not as shallow as you think." He almost laughs.

"What, so you're agreeing with me? I thought this was the part where you'd tell me I was in fact very pretty." I tease.

His voice is hushed. "You are pretty."

It's silent for some time before I speak again.

"Nah."

"It's not a joke. Don't laugh. I seriously like you."

I don't say anything. I smile shyly and look away from him.

"Do you like me?"

"I don't know?" I answer.

"That's bull-shit. You either do or you don't. There is no "I don't know."

My hand slips out of his and I cross my arms across my chest with a raised eyebrow.

"Step off, Dave."

"Jesus Christ, Melinda. It took a lot for me to admit that. Don't leave me here all high and dry."

"You're pressuring me. Maybe I'm not ready for that stuff right now."

"I'll wait until you are."

"Maybe I'll never be ready."

"If that was the case you wouldn't be talking to me right now."

I roll my eyes.

"I like you. I want to be your boyfriend. There . I said it."

I blush furiously.

"You don't want me for a girlfriend. I'm too…damaged."

"I don't care. I don't care that you have baggage."

"Maybe not now. But maybe you will later."

"Give me a chance. Give me a chance to prove to you that I'm not Andy Evans. That I'm not some asshole. Some typical high school guy. I like you, Melinda. I like the way you put up with my weird friends. I like that you like my music. I like how I can see everything you feel plain as day in your green eyes. That your life isn't about shopping and make-up and clothes. I like that you're a real girl. That you worry about real things. That you feel everything strongly. You're like the fire Melinda. I think Andy took that from you for a while. But I've seen the fire in your eyes. I want that. I want the fire."

My voice is a whisper. I look at him sadly.

"The fire will burn you."

"No. It won't. I won't let it."

He is standing in front of me. I look everywhere but at him.

He palm is on my cheek suddenly. I look at him and the shame runs through my veins.

I want very much to tell him that I like him too. But I'm so afraid.

Afraid to break something that I'll never ever be able to put back together.

It's not fair. That the moment can't be simple. That it can't be the way it is for everyone else.

That I can't tell him I'm falling for him. That I can't let him kiss me without thinking of Andy.

It's not fair that I can't have my first time with this sweet boy.

That I had my first time in a car that smelled of cigarettes and that my first kiss tasted like beer.

That my notions of love were tainted by a careless act of violence.

I wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his chest

His shirt smells like fabric softener, a comforting scent. One that reminds me of sleep and my mom. It reminds me of love.

His chin is on the top of my head and he hugs me back.

"Dave?" I ask. My voice is timid like a child's suddenly.

"What?" He says calmly.

"I like you too."

His fingers spread out over my back and I'm reminded faintly of a butterfly opening its wings, a flower blooming in spring.

It's autumn now and the flowers aren't blooming. The butterflies will soon be gone.

Everything will die. But for the first time in a year I won't die with those things. I won't fall asleep with the spell of a monster. The poison apple won't draw the breath from my lungs.

People will continue to hurt one another. They will continue to hate and destroy. But I won't be one of those people.

The truth is that there's a lot of shit we all have to deal with. I've dealt with a bit more than other people.

But that's no matter. Because in the end after all that shit and pain there are good things too.

Dave is a good thing.

I look up at him, my face rising up bravely toward his.

He looks alarmed for a second.

And the surprise fades in his hazel eyes. The lids lowering.

I was afraid that the touch would send me reeling back to the night of the party.

But his mouth brushing mine does no such thing. Andy Evans had been aggressive. Rough.

Predatory.

Dave's touches are gentle and almost pleading. His kiss is soft.

My arm winds around his neck, my fingers digging themselves into his shaggy hair.

I want to kiss him for forever.

It's strange that I was once afraid of that sort of touch. It's strange that he is the one to break the kiss where a few months ago it would have been me. That I would have pushed him away with fear and panic.

I kiss him again. My mouth parts over his and we breathe into each other.

He holds my face in his hands, pulling his lips away from mine.

"No." he whispers.

He kisses my forehead.

"No?" I answer softly.

"I don't want just that from you. I like you for more than your body. I like you for you. I want us to get to know each other before any of that."

"Dave." I smile. "I do know you."

He is unrelenting.

"Let me kiss you." I ask almost childishly.

He shakes his head with a laugh.

"Can I take you out first?" he asks.

My laugh echoes his.

"Yeah."

"Then, it's a date."

I feel a sort of gratitude. My own parents can't even understand me. And here is this stranger. This boy I barely know. And it doesn't make sense. That I feel at home when I'm around him. That I feel it's okay to be me. That even despite all the things that are wrong with me, he only notices the right.

I wrap my arms around him again and my cheek presses gently against his chest. His cotton t-shirt feels like safety. It feels like home.

This is home.


End file.
